Amortentia
by hmarie123
Summary: Dean and Seamus smell some amortentia and learn that sometimes, feelings are in fact mutual. Pairing: Deamus. A bit of humor in the end. Rated T just to be safe, and because I suck at rating. Reviews are always appreciated.


Amortentia  
>Pairing: Deamus, of course.<br>Setting: Sixth year.  
>Slash. Nothing too crazy. Rated T just to be safe. I suck at ratings.<br>I own no rights to Harry Potter or anything related to it.  
>Reviews are appreciated.<br>Enjoy!

—

"...it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-" Hermione cut herself off, as if she was too embarrassed by what scent had come out of the cauldron in front of her. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, sitting in the back, sniggered, knowing all too well what she smelled.

Dean whispered, "That girl just needs to admit her love for Ron. They've been crazy for each other since first bloody year." Seamus started laughing.

"What's that stuff called again? We should go up and try it, eh mate?"

Dean looked baffled. "It's called amortentia, and try it? Shay, are you crazy?"

"Not try it like take some, you git. Try it as in see what we smell. Like I would suggest taking a crazy love potion. Even I'm not that dumb. Merlin, sometimes I think I'm smarter than you, I swear." Seamus hit his friend in the shoulder.

He smiled and replied, "Smarter than you? Are you sure about that?"

"Oh get over yourself." The two of them walked over to the cauldrons. Seamus made Dean go first. "Well, go on then, what do you smell?"

Dean hesitantly leaned over the cauldron, and the pink haze bubbling out of it immediately turned a misty gray color. "I smell... Pencils. Wooden pencils, like the kind I draw with."

"Of course, Sir Artist." Seamus replied dramatically, trying his best to appear unsurprised. "Please, do continue."

Dean sniffed again, ignoring the sarcasm. This time, the gray turned into a creamy white. "Paper, like in my sketchbook."

The short Irish boy rolled his eyes and said, "Merlin, art supplies sure get you going, eh Dean?" and flashed him a sly smile.

"Shut up, Shay, why don't you have a go at this? Let's see what makes you-" But he stopped mid-sentence because he had just inhaled the most intoxicating scent ever. He turned back to the cauldron and the haze had turned to a bright, foresty-green color. He closed his eyes and just breathed for almost a good two minutes before a confused Seamus finally interrupted.

"OY. DEAN. What the bloody hell are ye smelling there? It's giving ye a right good time, I see. Yer eyes nearly rolled to the back o' yer head!" He could have a very heavy accent when he wanted to.

Dean turned a bright red, quite an impressive feat for his dark skin color, and quickly replied, "Nothing. I don't know." But he knew exactly what it was. It was a scent he was particularly familiar with, because it was the scent of the person he was in love with. It reminded Dean of the summers he had spent with that person every year, most specifically the year they went to the Quidditch World Cup together. That was the year everything changed. That was the year Dean realized he was in love with his best friend. His best _male_ friend. The green color the potion turned into was highly amusing to him. Even the amortentia could sense that Seamus Finnigan was so typically Irish. He let out a shaky laugh, and tried to pull himself together. "Whatever that was, it smelled pretty damn good, I'll tell you."

Seamus looked at him for a while, trying to see if he was lying or not. "I don't believe ye, but I'll let it slide. My turn. Move over." And he shoved Dean out of the way. He leaned over the cauldron as it immediately turned an amber color. His facial expression immediately changed from amused to a childish-looking state of confusion. "Firewhiskey?"

Dean exploded into a fit of laughter. When he was finally able to speak, he said "Shay, you are so Irish, I can't take it."

"Oh shut up, Dean." He smelled the amortentia again. The smoke turned a dark, caramel brown color. His eyes lit up with something Dean couldn't quite explain. Was that... Lust? Fear? Dean didn't have time to ponder it anymore, because Seamus was now nervously yammering, "W-we should go. Quickly, Dean." When Dean didn't move, he snapped, "NOW." and grabbed his bags and walked out of the dungeons.

Luckily, class was just dismissed, and Dean could get his things and follow after his friend. He didn't say a word as he followed him all the way back into the still empty common room. "Looks like we're going to miss another class, huh Shay? Will you tell me what happened back there?"

Seamus shook his head and led Dean up to the dorms, still saying nothing. He sat down on his four-poster, and motioned for Dean to join him. When he did, he spoke.

"What would I have to do for you to stop being my friend?"

Dean stared at Seamus. "_What in the world_?" he thought. "Shay, it would take a hell of a lot to get me to stop being your friend. Maybe if you murdered someone. Or if you became a Death Eater. Or both. Why?"

"Are you sure that's it?" There were tears in his eyes now.

"What's wrong, Shay? Of course I'm sure. You're my best mate. I'd love you no matter what, you git. Now tell me what happened back there in potions." Dean put his arm around Seamus, trying to comfort him.

"Back... Back there. When the cauldron smoke turned that caramel color? It smelled like y-" The tears were flowing faster, and he rested his head on Dean's shoulder and restarted. "It smelled like... You." He waited for a response from his best friend who had stopped moving. He didn't even seem to be breathing. After a while, Seamus got fed up with the silence. He lifted his head and looked his friend in the eyes. "Dean, will you please say something? I feel like an eejit."

Dean smiled and told Seamus, "You said that the smoke turned a caramel color? Because of obvious reasons, correct? Well I'm going to tell you something. The third scent from my cauldron, as you remember, made the smoke turn green. I never told you what it was, because I was afraid of what you would say."

Seamus looked very confused, so he asked, "Wh... What are you getting at here?"

"Shay, you are most definitely not an _eejit_. That is a very Irish term you used there." Seamus just stared back, oblivious to what Dean was hinting at. "You Irish are all the same. Oblivious to anything that isn't spelled out to them." Still a blank stare. "Irish... Ireland? Shay, you have got to be kidding me. Merlin, I thought you'd understand by now."

"Dean, could you just say to me what you're hinting at? I'm not in the mood to play your mind games. I'm trying to be serious here, for once." He was looking angry now. When Dean didn't respond, he continued, "I just basically came out and confessed my feelings for you and you're sitting here playing guessing games? I thought you knew me better than tha-"

He stopped short when he felt a soft, gentle pair of lips on his, and it took him until they were gone to register what had just happened.

"Y- You- We ju- Did tha- Dea- You-" His eyebrows furrowed and he cocked his head to one side. He was trying to speak, but no words were coming out. He looked at Dean and managed a "Wha?"

Dean chuckled at Seamus's dumbfounded look. "Green, Shay. Does that color not mean something to you? And bloody hell, what cologne is that you wear, because it smells fucking wonderful."

"Does that mean... Green?" Dean nodded and waved his hand, motioning for him to continue. "Because... Because I'm- I'm Irish?"

"Took you long enough."

"So that means you and I... Feel the same way about each other?" The corners of Seamus's mouth turned upwards a bit.

"No, Shay. I hate you. That's why I kissed you twice."

"Twice? You only ki-"

But Dean was right. They did kiss twice. Then three times, then four, then many more times until the both of them were short of breath.

Dean laid his head down on the pillow, and pulled Seamus down beside him. "Hey Shay?"

Seamus wrapped Dean's arms around him and yawned. "Mm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Dean."

—

Ron walked into the dorms after classes and saw Dean and Seamus together, asleep on Seamus's bed. Dean's arms were wrapped tightly around the Irishman's waist, and Seamus had his head buried in Dean's neck. Ron smiled and shook his head as he closed the curtains around them, thinking to himself, "_Well, I owe Harry a galleon_."


End file.
